


The Knight's Dismay

by TheThirteenthHour



Series: Memorable: A Collection of Short Zelink Works [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Gen, Near Death, and has a small breakdown, don't worry link just has a nasty run-in with a lynel, gets revived by a fairy, he'll be fine, tagged / and & because you can read it either way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirteenthHour/pseuds/TheThirteenthHour
Summary: They call him Champion. They call him Hero of Hyrule. But all he knows is the kiss of death, and the burning shame of being forced alive.





	The Knight's Dismay

Dying—Link remembers, as the lynel runs its spear through his stomach and out his back—is nothing like falling asleep. It feels how he imagines Death Mountain would reclaim him, clawing into him with searing possessiveness and ripping him apart. There is nothing he can do to stop it.

But fairies are stubborn things. As soon as the lynel yanks its bloody spear out, that pink glimmer flutters around him, forcing him back together with agonizing tenacity.

It burns, worse than the spear cutting through him, worse than the spear ripping back out. His screams refuse to leave his throat as anything more than strangled noise, forced to feel and watch as the fairy drags him back from the brink of death.

He wishes it wouldn't.

The lynel doesn't give him the chance to sit up when it's over. Once it realizes what happened, it roars and charges.

Link does what he should've done the first time, and warps to the safety of a shrine.

He doesn't know which shrine he's chosen until blue and white give way to muggy air and stone. The shrine's cave is flooded with water and leaves. Beyond the opening stands the imposing form of the Goddess Statue—deaf to all devotion.

The memory of Zelda's voice rings true and clear in his heart.

He staggers toward her on legs weak with fatigue, the strain of revival still taking a toll on his body. He doesn't notice the hammering in his chest until he stands in Zelda's place and looks up.

He can't see Death Mountain looming over him from here, not when the Spring of Power is tucked so neatly into the valleys of Akkala. But he can feel it breathing down his neck. The air is too humid and too thick to breath. It congeals in his throat, in his lungs, slips into the spaces between his skin and his tunic and encases him in the promise of death, and failure, and fate.

There is so much he doesn't remember. So much that lies just out of his reach, close enough to taunt him and make him mourn its absence.

The Spring of Power is wrong to him in ways he can't pinpoint, as though he doesn't belong here; Zelda never belonged here, either. But it is part of them all the same.

The back of his hand itches, a manifestation of the ache he feels when he looks at the last picture Zelda left in her slate—memories of himself that feel lifetimes old, memories of her lost to his hundred-year sleep.

He rubs his hand, but it does nothing to soothe the persistent, gnawing absence of something important.

He feels like a failure, too.

There are holes in his tunic now, red fabric torn over fresh scars and damp with his blood. He stoops in the water to wash it out, but he can't shake the feeling that something—the statue, the spring, the volcano, the castle—_something_ watches with glee, proud to see him wounded, one lifeline short, and one step closer to another death.

He needs her.

There is so much he doesn't remember about Zelda, but his soul grieves for her. Part of him would die countless deaths, live countless lifetimes, if it meant being beside her. That part unflinchingly knows their place is with each other.

The rest of him doesn't know what to think of her.

He remembers her as a young woman who doubted him as much as she doubted herself, who did all she could to protect her friends, her father, and her people. He remembers her as a young woman who fell apart in his arms, when all he wanted was to protect her and comfort her, but his only means to do so was a legendary sword.

He failed at that, too.

His questions to the Goddess are an echo of Zelda's: What isn't he doing right? What's wrong with him?

Like Zelda, he goes unanswered.

The sword goes first, some dull, nicked thing he took off the corpse of a bokoblin. Then the rusty shield, found in a flooded ruin. The wooden bow he snatched from an abandoned den. He tosses them into the spring, sends them clattering across rock walls with a violent noise that sings death for no demons, not even his own. He strips off his torn tunic and flings it aside, watches its red fabric go dark with water. It's not the armor he should be wearing, but he's no Champion either. Not like this. Not without his memories. Not without his sword. Not without Zelda.

He crouches in the water, pulls at his hair, and sobs until it hurts.

It's sunset when he finally calms. He floats on his back and watches the sky, streaked the same color as Death Mountain. Lines of orange across red patches, looking down on him like the eyes of Malice. He lets it.

The knowledge that Zelda needs him spurs him to move. His soul drags every limb into motion, forcing him to gather his things, to slip on that ugly red tunic, to push forward and fight and stay alive.

The rest of him wishes it wouldn't.

He looks up at the Goddess Statue, unmoved by his despair, and wonders at the emptiness in his chest. The Goddess won't answer, but he prays that Zelda's heart doesn't break for him.

He doesn't know that it's too late.<strike></strike>

**Author's Note:**

> _he'll be fine_
> 
> * * *
> 
> Want to reblog or retweet? Find [the tumblr post](https://write-nonsense-by-the-ream.tumblr.com/post/187062424723/his-questions-to-the-goddess-are-an-echo-of) and [the tweet here](https://twitter.com/thirteenthhr/status/1162530334627512320).
> 
> Want to leave a comment but don't know what to say? Drop some emojis!  
\- 💕 - Extra kudos!  
\- 😍 - I loved this!  
\- 😭 - How could you...  
\- 🤗 - _I'm giving Link a much needed hug._  
\- 💌 - Thanks for sharing!
> 
> [ I also welcome short/long comments, questions, concrit, and reader-reader interaction!](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject)


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